Smoke and Shadows (30 page)

“You look extremely edible,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to the side of her head.
 

“You clean up nicely yourself.” Viktor was wearing a white-dress shirt tucked into indigo jeans in an elegant wash. Over this he wore a caramel tweed coat. The whole look enhanced his European ancestry and the best part was, he looked very relaxed. Sometimes she wondered if he was just pretending to hate dressing up. After all, he did attend Senate committee hearings and she was certain he had been in briefings with the President before, which explained the suits. “Although, I’m realizing I could have probably put you in an ugly sweater.”

“Not a fucking chance, sweetheart.” Viktor placed a hand on the small of her back and escorted her into the mansion.

Though Marissa had warned her mother, Diana Cole’s eyes widened in awe as she took in her daughter’s date. Hard to ignore a man who was towering above everyone else, including
 
six-two Trent.
 
Viktor transformed himself into some suave European gentleman as he kissed the back of his mother’s hand in greeting.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Cole.”

She watched her staid country club, pearl-wearing mother visibly preen at the charming smile Viktor bestowed upon her, and for some reason, it irritated Marissa.
 

“Call me Diana, please,” her mother replied. “You don’t know how relieved I am that my daughter finally has a man.”

“Mother!”

Viktor chuckled.
 

“Well, it’s true. What with the work you do.”

Marissa shot her mother a warning look, noting that they had relatives—aunts, uncles, and cousins—in attendance who didn’t really know Marissa’s real job. Only her parents and Trent knew of her work with the CIA, and even her mother didn’t know she was in black ops. All Diana knew was that she was a case officer.

“So what do you do, young man?”

It was her turn to control her amusement upon hearing Viktor called a “young man.” It looked like it had disconcerted him too, although he hid it well, barely blinking, but the muscle in his jaw ticked once . . . twice before he told her mother that he worked in security.

The standard answer. Always.

*****

Viktor made his way through the row of marbled columns, following the personal assistant of Trenton Cole III to the study. He had been summoned. Marissa’s father acknowledged him briefly when they were introduced before dinner and both men immediately sized up the other. Firm handshake, a meeting of eyes, silent communication of an underlying challenge. And Viktor never backed down from a challenge.

Dinner was fairly civilized. A sit-down affair of twenty people in an enormous dining room decorated with expensive renaissance art. The domed ceiling had several arches that were gilded in gold. In between the arches were landscape murals. The whole house was a fucking museum, and Viktor wondered how someone as real as Marissa could grow up in such an environment. Though it did explain her penchant for collecting antique pieces and art. The difference was she did it on a smaller and more personal scale.
 

Some of her relatives were wary of his presence and he couldn’t blame them because unless he consciously tried to relax, his natural aura was intimidating. That was just the way he was honed.
 

Trent had come up to him during cocktail hour and handed him a drink—a peace offering.

Marissa’s brother had a wry smile on his face. “We got off on the wrong foot, Baran. I owe you an apology.”

“I hope your sister didn’t put you up to this,” Viktor replied. He didn’t need Marissa fighting his battles.

“She talked to me,” Trent admitted sheepishly. “She set me straight.”

Viktor raised a brow.

“She told me to mind my own business.”
 

“I agree.”

“Hell, you have to understand my position,” Trent argued. “Reesee’s a tough nut, but she’s been hurt before by someone like you.”

Viktor tensed, not sure he wanted to hear this, but he couldn’t help himself from asking, “How do you know the person was someone like me?”

“She has a good head on her shoulders—a good douchebag meter—and she doesn’t put up with bullshit, so I don’t usually have to worry about her getting hurt by some asshole.” His voice turned harsh. “Except that one time a couple of years ago. She’d just gotten transferred to the clandestine service. I think it was some guy from the black ops team she worked with. Like I said, someone like you.”

Or it was me
, Viktor thought grimly.

“Look man, I already said too much,” Trent said. “I just have to trust her when she says she knows what she’s doing this time. Whatever happened to her back then fucked her up.” Trent shrugged. “But it made her what she is today.”

Hardened. Snarky
.
 

“Marissa’s one of the best black ops team leads I know,” Viktor said, but underneath his bland statement, a rush of emotions plagued him—one of them was guilt. The knowledge that he had a hand in stripping the innocence from her and inadvertently shaping her into a woman more suitable to his world.

So now that her brother and one parent were on board with their relationship, Viktor was curious what her father had to say.

The smell of cigar smoke reached his nostrils even before he approached the ornately carved doors of the study. The assistant announced his arrival.

Trenton Cole was a tall man, but years behind the doors of boardrooms, and nothing more, had aged him prematurely. His forehead was creased permanently with frown lines. His mouth was pinched at the corners. An expensive sweater stretched over a more-than generous beer belly. But his eyes were watchful. Shrewd.

“Cigar?” Cole offered. “Brandy?”

“Brandy,” Viktor said.
 

Marissa’s father walked over and poured the amber liquid into a snifter, and then handed it to Viktor.
 

“Please sit,” Cole said, even as he walked over to a window and stared outside.

“I’d prefer to stand,” Viktor replied. “I doubt our conversation will take too much time.”

Her father turned around to face him. “You’re not what I want for my daughter.”

And there goes the opening salvo.

“I’m listening,” Viktor said.

Exhaling in irritation, Cole continued, “I’ve accepted that she will never run the business, but I was hoping she’d marry someone who would. Unfortunately, I don’t think I could bribe you with money to leave my daughter alone. You make more than enough with your little enterprise to tide you over until Marissa gets her inheritance.”

What. A. Prick
. Viktor thought angrily.

“I surely hope you’re not insinuating that I’m with Marissa because of money,” Viktor said in a bored voice.

“Don’t try to deny it.” Cole’s nostrils flared. “We’re talking billions. I have to protect what I’ve worked for all these years, so I’m taking drastic measures.” He paused, as if it was hard for him to say the next words. “I’m cutting her off if she continues to see you. She has a trust fund that I have no control over, but that’s only ten million dollars. I’ll offer you twenty million now to leave her. No more. No less. And you agree tonight or the offer is rescinded.”

Viktor thought briefly what the prison sentence was for breaking the neck of your woman’s father. He methodically tossed back the brandy and set the empty glass on the table, regarding Marissa’s father with a chilling gaze. It never failed to put the fear of God in people. His eyes had seen too much death and suffering. The eyes of a killer. The eyes of someone who would destroy anyone who would try to come between him and the woman he loved.
 

Trenton Cole’s eyes widened in a moment of uncertainty, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Viktor took a slight step forward; the older man took a step back.

“Are we done here?” Viktor said softly, a ripple of menace coating his words.

“Now see here, Baran—” Cole sputtered.

“No. You—see—here,” Viktor said, cold fury taking over. “The only reason I haven’t snapped your neck is because I love your daughter, and even if you’re her dick of a father, I have to show you some respect. But I’ve taken men down for much less than the crap you’ve just spewed out. So, I repeat. Are—we—done—here?”

Cole’s mouth hardened into a thin line and he nodded jerkily.

Viktor turned around and stalked out of the study. He ran into Marissa a few paces out the door. Her face was furious and battle-ready.

“Trent told me that Dad—” Marissa hissed. He grabbed her hand and dragged her down the hallway into an alcove.
 

Viktor realized he was breathing hard from unspent anger.

“What did he say, Viktor?” Marissa asked nervously.
 

“You need to know, Iz.” Viktor said, his voice raspy like sandpaper. “My gut tells me you won’t give a shit and you’re not leaving me. But I’m telling you now, sweetheart, if you fucking break up with me over this, I’m not letting you go anyway. I’m fighting for you, even if the person I have to fight is you.”

“You’re not making any damned sense.” Her eyes flared impatiently. “What did my father say to you?”

“He’s cutting you off.”

“He’s disowning me?” Marissa said in confusion. “Kinda archaic, don’t you think? It’s not like I talk to him much nowadays—”

“No. Your inheritance,” Viktor snapped. “You stay with me even for another night. Billions. Gone.”

“And he thinks I care?” Marissa’s voice got louder. She was positively shaking with rage. “What else? And don’t leave anything out, big guy. Because you’re foaming at the mouth. He must have done something unforgivable, like offering you money.”

“You know your father too well,” Viktor drawled, relief crashing over him.

“Oh, God. How much?”

“Twenty mil.”

Marissa laughed. “Well, I’m glad I’m worth more than—”

Viktor couldn’t help it. He hauled her against him and kissed her roughly, not caring if anyone, including her father, walked in on them.

After a few minutes of intense lip-lock, Marissa pulled away and stared up at him with all the emotion he wanted to see in her eyes. Total acceptance of what they had, of him. “Take me home, big guy.”

Home.
Viktor couldn’t agree more.

*****

Stuart Kwon’s phone buzzed with the call he was expecting.

“He wouldn’t take it,” Trenton Cole muttered from the other line.

Stuart smiled without mirth. Either Viktor Baran didn’t like being blackmailed or he truly cared for the girl.
 

“That’s too bad,” Stuart replied. “You understand that this will null and void our contract.” The contract having to do with oil tankers being owned and managed by Cole Nauticals.
 

“I still don’t see how Viktor Baran’s company would threaten the interests of Exetron Oil,” Cole argued. “They deal with corporate security and fraud, and we have nothing to hide. All our dealings are by the book. An alliance with AGS would actually increase the confidence level of our business partners.”

“There are some concerns that AGS is involved in espionage for the CIA,” Stuart said carefully. Trenton Cole was on need to know, and the man didn’t know that Kwon knew Marissa Cole worked for the CIA. “As a Russian company, those allegations are troubling.”
 

“Look, I’ll try to reason with Marissa,” Cole said.
 

After he ended the conversation with Trenton Cole, Stuart used his secure phone to contact Owen Reed.

“Baran’s relationship with Ms. Cole is more serious than we anticipated,” Stuart told his henchman.
 

Reed was silent for a beat before saying, “We could exploit the situation.”

“Threaten one of them or make them work against each other,” Stuart agreed. “We need to provide a catalyst. Are you in position?”

“Waiting for the word, Mr. Kwon.”

“Do it.”

Stuart ended the call. Suddenly his need for revenge against Viktor Baran, and to some extent Marissa Cole, had become clearer. Everything depended on how much one cared for the other, and judging from Baran’s rejection of Trenton Cole’s bribe, Stuart might have found a crack in the AGS’s top man’s armor.
 

*****

They were a few minutes from Viktor’s house when Marissa received an urgent text message from Yeager to meet up at Langley. The bottom finally fell out, Marissa thought grimly.

“What is it?” Viktor asked. He maneuvered the BMW into a U-turn to head to CIA headquarters.

“FBI agents raided Reed’s apartment. They were gassed,” Marissa replied tersely. “No info on casualties.”

“Fuck,” Viktor muttered just when his phone buzzed.
 

“Baran . . . we just got the news . . . I’m heading to Langley, right now. Send Edmunds or Stark to the scene and make sure they suit up in protective gear—no exceptions. Got me?”

They arrived at Langley in twenty minutes and cleared security in another five. Allison was already in the briefing room with Yeager, the widescreen replaying FBI footages of the attack.

“This is being passed off as a gas leak for now,” Yeager told them. “The casualties are limited to federal agents, so we are able to keep this off radar. Two agents from the FBI, one from DHS were declared dead at the scene. Another three, I believe all from FBI, were able to take atropine.”

“Why weren’t the other agents able to take their atropine?” Marissa asked.

“According to the initial reports, three assailants wearing protective masks jumped them when the canister released the toxin.”

“I don’t get the whole point in this. Why would they lure agents and waste a canister?” Viktor interjected.

“We don’t have anything,” Yeager said. “With some of their lead agents down, FBI is requesting the CIA to step back in. Work in the background of course with AGS taking the lead, since you guys are already familiar with the case.”

“Who tipped them off?”

“There was an inter-agency bulletin on Reed and Logan. A Loudoun County police officer called it in to the FBI this evening. Federal agents swarmed within the hour. About forty minutes ago, they got confirmation of the apartment unit and they went in.”